


Nothing More

by ManyRelish



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: Black Romance, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-27
Updated: 2013-03-27
Packaged: 2017-12-06 17:17:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,584
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/738152
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ManyRelish/pseuds/ManyRelish
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There was nothing more that BLU Spy wanted than to kill RED Sniper. The feelings were mutual.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nothing More

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MagnumBobcat](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=MagnumBobcat).



RED Sniper was absolutely revolting. From the way he sat in his nest to how he drank dirty coffee and pissed in jars. It was disgusting. BLU Spy couldn’t stand it. On the other hand, Spy was too clean. He made sure to do everything with utmost douchebag-like way. It really got on Sniper’s nerves. And so it was fated that they were to fall in love.

Or it would be if this were some crappy romance novel.

But this isn’t, maggots. This is fucking war. And love does not bloom on the battlefield. Ever.

Their first meeting wasn’t exactly their first, but the first time they started to really take notice of each other. Sniper was in his nest, busting heads from a distance as usual, and Spy came up behind him and stabbed him in the back. It wasn’t the first time Spy had done so and it certainly wouldn’t be the last, but it was the time Sniper got sick of it. Neither of them could actually die, so it wasn’t a problem of life or death. It was more the tedium that followed of having to trek out to his nest again that Sniper really hated. So Sniper took to learning Spy’s patterns. That expression he’d get on his face right before a backstab… It gave him away every time (no, it didn’t).

No, it didn’t. Spy was absolutely placid. Sniper was just incredibly paranoid since all those backstabs. It was better to kill the Spy before the Spy got to him, after all. Whenever someone got suspiciously close to another person’s back, Sniper pulled the trigger. Nine times out of ten it was Spy. Sometimes he headshotted his own team. But such is battle, and his team got used to it (especially when he argued that 90% was an A).

The real action began not long after that. Sniper was so focused on his work that he ignored everything around him until the familiar sound a decloak was right in his ear. He pulled away from his rifle just in time to catch BLU Spy readying to stab him in the back. It was an incredible moment. Sniper’s hand held Spy’s wrist tightly, and then their eyes met. Sniper didn’t look away, lip curling slightly as he let out a low snarl.

“Well, you caught me,” Spy said. “Now what? Run to the next mountain and hope I’m still here by the time you turn around?”

Sniper said nothing, instead groping behind him for something. His hand landed on a jar, and in a second it was flung at Spy.

“Jarate?” Spy gasped. It was followed by a shrill shriek, and he instantly tried to cloak. But Australian piss is fantastic for breaking cloaks and Sniper was able to dive for his kukri and shove it through the Spy’s chest.

There was something about that moment that set Sniper’s heart pounding. Perhaps it was because he nearly died again. Probably the reason. There was no real intimacy in that moment, only piss. Still, it took Sniper longer than usual to recover. Maybe because he’d actually stopped Spy mid-stab.

The next time the Spy came into his line of sight he didn’t hesitate to shoot.

The battles continued--both the public and private ones. Sniper was getting better at listening for the decloak of Spy and that led to more knife fights and struggling. But rather than give up on Sniper, Spy kept coming back. Perhaps he was stubborn, perhaps he wanted a challenge. Sniper never asked, and Spy would never answer even if he did.

“You’re getting better at this,” Spy practically purred, though the annoyance in his tone was obvious.

“I’m just trying to stay alive, you bloody Spook,” Sniper responded.

“I believe you might be catching up to my kill count.”

“I’m way above you’re kill count!”

Sniper gave Spy a hard knee to the gut. Spy coughed, stumbling back a bit before darting forward with his knife. One could call it a dance on Spy’s half, but Sniper was more like an elephant on stilts. Might as well call him Oswald. Sniper reached for another jar, but was given a swift knife to the gut before he could reach. It wasn’t enough to kill, but oh was it painful.

“Don’t play dirty, Bushman,” Spy sneered.

Sniper grabbed the wound at his side and gave Spy the biggest, most loathingest glare he could muster. “I can play dirtier than that.” That was followed up by a knee to the crotch. Spy made a small, shrill noise, hand instantly darting between his legs to soothe his aching groin. He didn’t get anything else out before Sniper’s blade lobbed off his head.

Spy reappeared at respawn absolutely seething. Playing dirty indeed. Sniper was not going to get away with that so easily. But he knew he couldn’t get revenge immediately. Sniper would be expecting it. That dirty bushman will get what’s coming to him.

It wasn’t some sort of courting ritual, it was just what it was: revenge, revenge, revenge. A never-ending cycle of killing each other. Sniper and Spy were stuck in an infinite loop. And sometimes Spy would find himself decloaking to early on purpose just to get a chance for some hand-to-hand combat with Sniper. Likewise, Sniper would sometimes fail to pull the trigger when he caught a glimpse of Spy heading in his direction. He didn’t like Spy. It was quite the opposite. Sniper felt a deep loathing for him, a hatred so strong that he knew he couldn’t simply headshot the BLU Spy and let it be over with. Spy felt similar, though neither voiced their feelings to each other. There was no need so long as the killing kept going.

* * *

 

“I don’t like it when other people kill you,” Sniper said one day with his blade buried painfully in Spy’s side. He had the enemy pinned to the wall and was taking his time killing him. It wasn’t sexual, but it was some sick sort of pleasant. Something felt really good and really right to have Spy bleeding out in front of him. “Stop dying before you get here.”

“I have an obligation, you know,” Spy replied. “A job. I’m supposed to kill your teammates.”

“Then kill them! But don’t die to them!” Sniper recoiled immediately, though Spy had no energy to go anywhere but to the floor. He’d lost a lot of blood. Sniper looked shocked. He hadn’t just said that, had he? He didn’t just tell the enemy Spy to kill his team and get away with it, right?

“What an interesting turn of events. Are you jealous?” Spy asked, giving Sniper a shit-eating grin that sent the Australian’s blood ablaze.

“No, don’t kill them. Get caught for all I care. Just don’t die. Got it?” Sniper corrected.

“I assure you, I do not die on purpose. Though I might consider it now that I know it bothers you.” Sniper bared his teeth at Spy, but the Frenchman only chuckled. “Finish me off, already. You are only wasting time.” Sniper removed his head.

Unfortunately, Spy couldn’t say the feeling wasn’t mutual. The idea of someone else sneaking into Sniper’s nest and killing him was almost as revolting as the man himself. He tried to push the feelings back but they were always there. Every time he looked up at that nest and saw no one in it he’d have to fight back a burning rage in his chest. It was distracting and incredibly unprofessional. How they got to that point was a mystery to him. Spy didn’t like mysteries.

But a few weeks later when Spy caught BLU Scout sneaking into Sniper’s nest he couldn’t stop himself. There was a knife in the Scout’s back before anyone had a chance to breathe. Sniper was too shocked to move and simply stared at Spy with an open mouth. Had Spy seriously just killed his own teammate to protect him?

“Oops, my bad,” Spy muttered as he stepped over the corpse. “Thought he was the enemy Spy.” Spy shrugged. It was an obvious lie. Spy was not a bad liar but that one wasn’t meant to be hidden. Hopefully Sniper wouldn’t be too dense to miss it.

Apparently not, because he was still in shock as Spy knelt down beside him.

“I suppose I should tell you the feeling is mutual. No one can kill you but me.” Spy slit Sniper’s throat.

* * *

 

It was a problem. It was a big problem. Not only had Scout not died immediately (which meant Spy’s backstabs were getting sloppy), but he had seen their rather “intimate” display and decided it was best to tell the entire team. Of course, he described it as something it was not in the slightest.

“I swear it was like they were gonna start ripping each other’s clothes off!” Scout said to Engineer, Pyro, and a very drunk Demoman. “Fucking faggotry boner city up in that place!”

Spy knew better than to chip in. It was hardly the case. They weren’t going to fuck. Ever.

“Issat true, Spy?” Engineer asked. He looked skeptical but Spy couldn’t blame him.

“I cannot stand the sight of him, why would I want to fuck him, let alone save his life?” Spy replied. The idea was repulsive.

But not as repulsive as it should have been.

Spy thought it was a good time to have a little heart-to-heart chat with his “friend” Sniper.

* * *

 

Sniper nearly shot Spy’s head off right then.

“What the bloody hell are you doing here?” he snapped, reaching for the closest available gun.

“We need to talk. May I sit?”

“No! Get out!”

Spy sat on a nearby cooler. “What is going on?”

“What do you mean?”

“You know perfectly well what I mean!”

There was a silence as Sniper finally seemed to relax and put his gun down. He sat on his bed, across from Spy. “Yeah, I suppose I do. I hate your damn guts is what’s going on.”

“But it is not all that is going on.” Spy leaned forward a bit. “There is something else. A romantic attraction, perhaps?”

“You’re not my bloody shrink!” Sniper snapped. Spy nodded.

“No, I am merely trying to understand why I hate you and yet can’t stand the idea of someone else killing you. I am unnaturally possessive and it’s interfering with my work. Whatever the problem is, I want to fix it.”

Sniper remained silent, slumped slightly against the wall.

“Perhaps it is better if we avoid each other,” Spy continued.

Sniper looked about ready to protest, but stopped himself.

“It would seem to be in both of our best interests, no? You continue your disgusting ritual of shooting people and pissing in jars, I’ll keep backstabbing your teammates. No more extra-long visits to your nest. No more looking out for me on the battlefield to make sure I make it to you. Do we have a deal?” Spy took Sniper’s silence as a yes, then stood and made his way towards the door of the camper van. There was a hand on his arm before he got too far.

Spy expected some sort of punch to the face. What he got was a kiss.

It was a rough kiss. It was beyond rough. The kiss itself was like a punch to the face. Sniper hated every moment of it, which meant he tangled his hands in Sniper’s hair and pulled him closer. Teeth hit teeth, lips were cut, bodies smashed against each other in such a way that would leave them feeling bruised for a long time to come. If Scout had seen them doing this, he probably would have described it as two wild animals trying to kill each other rather than two men making out.

Sniper shoved Spy against the wall none too gently, relishing the sound the other man made at the sudden pain. Spy’s head had hit the wall a little too hard and it left him dizzy. Sniper didn’t give him enough time to recover before sinking his teeth into the BLU’s neck. Hips rolled in just the right way, fingers gripping to bruise. Spy had never felt more angry and aroused in his life.

The never made it to the bed because Spy would have preferred that. It was just a little thing Sniper did to make sure Spy absolutely hated their current situation. It was a fight for dominance the whole time. Spy would shove Sniper to the ground, only to get flipped on his back. There were punches thrown everywhere. It didn’t matter where they hit so long as they made contact. Every bruised muscle and bone felt good in some twisted way.

They finally started removing clothes after a great deal of fist fighting. Spy’s suit was wrinkled to hell and back and boy did that irk him. But Sniper paid no attention to that, or perhaps he did and went out of his way to wrinkle Spy’s suit and he pulled it off just enough to free the man’s neck and shoulders. Insults were spat between each other, some in French and some too thick with an Australian accent to be understood. Spy’s hands drifted down to Sniper’s belt, undoing it and pulling it off in one quick motion.

“I hate your cheap belts,” he growled.

“I hate your cheap face,” Sniper snarled in response. That noise sent heat right to Spy’s groin.

They only removed enough clothes to do the deed. Considering neither of them was willing to bottom they had to settle for some angry frotting. It didn’t take long before it was over. Sniper came first and had half a mind to just get up and leave Spy hanging. Spy, of course, foresaw that and took great care to grab Sniper’s ass and make sure he stayed until the end.  They lay on the floor, bruised and bloody.

 It was an interesting afterglow filled with hate and not wanting to leave and needing to leave. Spy couldn’t stay. He wanted to. He wanted to shove a knife into Sniper again and again until the Australian bled out in front of him. He knew he couldn’t. They weren’t on duty and Spy was well into enemy territory. He let his head rest against the floor, fingers playing with the small hairs on the back of Sniper’s neck. It was oddly intimate. Neither of them said anything for a good ten minutes. Finally, Sniper stood.

“You need to leave.” He fixed his clothes and zipped up his pants. Never mind that he was covered in blood, sweat, and cum. He didn’t seem to care. Spy couldn’t wait to get out and shower.

“And we’ll be avoiding each other?” Spy asked.

“Yeah.”

“Good.” Spy pushed himself up, taking a lot of care to make himself as presentable as possible. He’d need to change and shower and maybe not get caught by anyone on the way back to his base (including his team, this might be a little hard to explain).

Spy stepped out of the camper, adjusted his watch, and was gone.

All things considered, it might have gone worse. Everyone knew better than to become friends with the enemy after what happened between Demoman and Soldier. Of course, when Spy was spoken to about it, he only smiled.

“Believe me,” Spy said as he lit a cigarette. “There is nothing more that I want than to kill that man.”

**Author's Note:**

> So basically this was something I put together as a gift for my friend, Jazzy. I love her so much and we both adore the idea of a hate-romance between Spy and Sniper. I set this up as a study on kismesitude. I wanted to see if it would work outside of a Homestuck setting and I think it did rather well.
> 
> I may end up rewriting this with better characterization and a fixed POV. Maybe. We'll see.


End file.
